


Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Odo is a blanket, Shapeshifting, Sharing a Bed, sneaky cuddling, tenderness and contentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quark has been acting suspiciously subdued, and Odo investigates his bedroom to discover why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paratale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paratale/gifts).



> happens after Body Parts and before Broken Link
> 
> warning for a brief reference to canon violence/injury. also dubious consensual cuddling? it's pleasant and beneficial for everyone though.

To Odo’s pleasant surprise, Quark’s quarters are in fact _not_ filled from walls to door to window with all manner of baubles and trinkets.  

 

That’s not to say there aren’t a superfluous number of curios in the room, but each has its place neatly arranged on shelving units lining the walls.  There are even numerous empty spaces on the shelves, perhaps where perhaps confiscated items used to belong.  Of course, Odo’s only personal affect is his bucket, so _any_ number of aesthetic items seems unnecessary to him; the humanoid penchant for accumulating items without practical value has always baffled him, and Quark has always represented the extreme side of this.  Overall, however, while the decoration style of the room is gaudier than other personal quarters Odo has seen, it’s more pragmatic than what he would expect from a man who spends his life chasing after treasures of varying degrees of legality.

 

In any case, this should make Odo’s task tonight easier.  

 

Ever since the Ferengi Commerce Authority seized all of Quark’s possessions and barred him from doing business with other Ferengi, Odo had heightened his observation of Quark’s dealings. Until recently Quark had been more upbeat than Odo had expected; it seemed that despite Brunt plunging Quark deeper into debt, the rally of support from station residents had cheered him up enough to weather the immediate fallout of the situation.  Now, however, a couple weeks after the fact, the increased bar business from supportive customers had died down as everyone went back to their regular habits.  

 

In response, Quark had become somewhat withdrawn, and last night had been particularly concerning:

 

Odo had been loitering around the bar for twenty-three minutes, eavesdropping on random customers, before sidling up to the counter where Quark had been languidly wiping down the same couple glasses the whole time.

 

“I’m surprised at you, Quark,” Odo had said, in that dry sardonic tone sure to peak Quark’s interest, or at least prepare his wary indignation.

 

“Hmm?”  Quark hadn’t even look up from the glass, his movements slow and lethargic, as if every movement were an effort.

 

“That gaudily-dressed Andorian over there has been staring into her empty glass for the last twenty minutes, and you haven’t so much as winked at her.  Normally by now either she’d be laughing into an expensive vintage of springwine you’ve convinced her to buy, or she’d be hitting you over the head with her purse, requiring my intervention.”

 

Quark had just shrugged noncommittally.

 

“Not that I’m complaining.  The less fuss the better, but…”  Odo leaned into Quark’s space, but Quark barely cringed at the latent threat, his dark-rimmed eyes even more haggard than usual viewed close up, a sure telltale of sleeplessness in humanoids.  “Don’t think I don’t have my eye on you.”

 

“As if I could forget,” Quark had mumbled, a much more subdued response than Odo was usually able to elicit out of him, and this had only fueled Odo’s suspicion.

 

Something was keeping Quark up at night; the question was _what_ exactly.

 

Of Quark’s many myriad faults, Odo wouldn’t normally suspect Quark of participating in anything overtly malicious.  Irksome, illegal, mildly unethical-- sure-- but Quark generally drew the line at actively hurting people.  However, desperate times might call for desperate measures, and the stress of covering his tracks might be what is contributing to Quark’s depressed behavior.

 

In any case, Odo had not been able to uncover clues of any illicit dealings through hanging around the bar or inspecting cargo of docked ships or rooting through the storage bays.  Captain Sisko had also shut down Odo’s suggestions for more extreme surveillance measures, writing his security concerns off as obsessive paranoia until Odo could produce probable cause.

 

So now Odo is left with the task of combing through Quark’s bedroom for whatever clues might turn up.

 

He’s in the process of checking under the bed-- an overly obvious place to hide contraband or whatnot, sure, but may as well rule it out first-- when his sensor starts beeping.  It’s rigged to alarm him when someone approaches the door of Quark’s overly soundproofed room and has apparently been tripped.

 

Quark is back, and unexpectedly early.  

 

Depending on customers the bar should be open for another two hours at least, so either it’s an early night or Quark has other business to attend to.  After a brief moment of deliberation-- the releases on the door starting to open-- Odo drapes himself across the bed, trying to shift into a thin bedspread with a matching pattern as the one already neatly tucked over the mattress.  However, the ostentatious colors-- purple and orange checked with gold stitching, interlacing in a complicated weave-- give him more trouble that he expects, so he hastily drips through to pose as a less visible sheet underneath.  

 

With any luck instead of Odo wasting his own time searching for evidence, Quark might reveal his guilt himself, and Odo can catch him red-handed.  Quark buzzes himself in, familiar scowl on his face, and the thought of that scowl contorting into a look of horror and shock when Odo reveals himself at the opportune moment fills Odo with happy anticipation.

 

Humanoids might find stakeouts uncomfortable or tedious, but Odo doesn’t experience bodily discomfort in the same way.  He also has a healthy appreciation for dogged persistence in pursuit of a specific goal-- a quality many humanoids seem to be lacking.  Plus it doesn’t hurt that while Odo is patiently experiencing existence as a blanket, Quark mutters to himself while putzing around the room with a flow of entertaining commentary for Odo to glean for clues:

 

“‘So nice to see you back in business, Quark!’” Quark says under his breath, mimicking a high-pitched whine that sounds like a caricature of Dax.  “‘We love what you’ve done with the place!  We’ll eat here every day to support you!’  That’s what they said, but at lunch time the Replimat’s full and at night everyone suddenly needs to go to bed early.  What ingrates.  I could have restarted a business anywhere else, away from this junk hole, but _no_ all those Federation types, they pat you on the back, and you think you’ll make a killing off of root beer sales, but _no_ , hypocrites, all of them.”

 

Odo doesn’t mind lying draped over Quark’s bed, hoping Quark will continue talking aloud as if there’s no one eavesdropping, but as Odo senses the noise vibrations of a tooth sharpener followed by a sonic shower in the bathroom, it’s becoming less likely that Quark is in his room to conduct any nefarious deals, and more likely that he’s settling in for the night.

 

Maybe Odo should slip away at this point, but Quark will probably be able to hear him sloshing as he shifts, so he may as well wait it out a bit longer.  Luckily, Quark heads over to his computer console… and pulls up nothing more interesting than an elaborate budgeting program.

 

“Computer, run profits over the past week.  Compare to two weeks preceding that.”  A sigh.  “Compare to averages of two years preceding that.”  An almost inaudible whimpering, then almost reluctantly: “Computer… projections for profits for the next financial quarter.  Ok, how about assume an increase in business by three percent.”  A pause.  “Ummm how about twenty percent?”  A sharp intake of breath, then a low hissing.  Quark keeps instructing budget parameters for the projection program, but none of the results the computer shows him seems to be satisfactory.  Finally he gives up on this particular activity.

 

“Hmm computer, run stock markets on Ferenginar.”  A whirl of numbers and Ferengi script flash on the screen.  Odo isn’t entirely sure what the numbers mean, but it looks like standard information, nothing black market.  This also doesn’t seem to cheer Quark up any, and he gives a long heaving sigh that rattles through his body, rubbing his eyes wearily.

 

He then heads across the room to the closet, peeling off clothing layers, hanging them up one by one in the closet.  

 

Odo, as a blanket still, stiffens in apprehension, his consistency becoming more like polycarbonate sheeting than the coarse Bajoran cotton the blanket is supposed to be made of.  Odo of course can’t _see_ Quark in the normal sense, but the vibrations of Quark’s movements would give him a detailed outline that would be as effective as if Odo were in his humanoid form, seeing through eyes.  Luckily Odo is able to fully huddle underneath the bedspread on top of him so that it dulls sensory input from vibrations in the air.

 

Odo may not be above invading Quark’s privacy in some manners, but in his observation most humanoids are very particular about covering their bodies in ways that Odo can only assume is analogous to him being seen in his natural state.  Quark is certainly no exception to this, and Odo recalls finding him beaten to a pulp and left haphazardly lying behind a table after the Nausicaans Brunt had hired were through with him:

 

“ _Quark!_ What the hell happened to you?” Odo had shouted, tapping his comm badge.  “Security to infirmary, emergency in the bar, respond immediately!”

 

Quark’s eyes had fluttered open weakly.  “Blessed Exchequer, is that you?  Have I made it to the Divine Treasury after all?  What’s the--” he paused to cough up a sticky dark liquid-- blood, Odo noted with horror “--opening bid?”

 

“Quark!  Don’t be stupid, it’s me, it’s Constable Odo.”  At Odo’s frantic tone, Quark had squinted and blinked a few times.  “Who did this, what direction did they go?”

 

“Odo!  My hero!”  Quark had said finally, face lighting up with joy under the bruising and fresh wounds, but it had contorted back into pain after the effort of smiling.

 

“Shh, shh, don’t move,” Odo had said gently, more gently than he could ever recall speaking to Quark, but justice must be served and it would do no good to have the victim pass out at this point.  “Medical help is on its way, but I need you to tell me where the person who did this to you went.”

 

Quark blinked several times, then started frantically running his hands over his body, his arm jerking at a funny angle with the movement.  “Odo!  Odo!  They ripped my shirt, I’m half naked!  Odo, I can’t be seen like this, give me yours-- ahhh-- owowowow--”

 

The panic in Quark’s voice, combined with the subsequent shrieking at having moved too rapidly for someone with likely multiple broken bones, had stirred Odo at a subconscious level, spurring him to jerk a tablecloth off the nearest surface before he could analyze too closely the strange stabbing emotion welling up within him.  He had spread the cloth to cover Quark’s torso, then held down the edges to keep Quark from moving any further.

 

“This is no time to worry about your clothing,” Odo had admonished, his voice wavering at the ridiculousness of this small troublesome man.  “You’re safe now, you’re covered, just lie _still_.”

 

This disturbing memory flits through Odo’s mind-- how peculiar that Quark’s first concern was over humanoid propriety when that fragile body had been pouring out its own liquid insides, and how even more peculiar it was that Odo's first instinct was to lessen Quark's anguish in any way he could, rather than continue interrogating where the perpetrators had gone.  Odo mentally tries to shake this memory, and as Quark by the bed peels the layers off his solid body, any visible scars from the incident likely regenerated, Odo keeps his blanket-self stiff with respect to dampen his “vision”, so he doesn’t accidentally “see” enough for Quark to be too embarrassed if he knew.  

 

Soon enough, Quark has quickly and efficiently pulled on his footie pajamas, then climbs into bed, yanking the Odo-sheet and bedspread up so it covers his [ head ](http://jazzypizzaz.tumblr.com/post/149392403973/hedgehog-pile-blankets-pulled-over-their-heads), snuggling his face into the pillow.

 

Odo figures he may as well wait a bit longer before leaving.  Once Quark is fast asleep, Odo will have an easier time shifting and continuing to root around his room without Quark hearing.  There’s also the off-chance that Quark has been making late night rendezvous with accomplices of a darker nature, but in any case Odo mentally rearranges his schedule for the night, as much as it pains him to do so.  Getting to the bottom of this is more important.

 

While Odo waits, however, Quark tosses and turns for a long while, and it takes much longer than expected.  If all humanoids take such a long time to fall unconscious, why haven’t they found a solution for this flaw?  A hypospray inducing sleep, perhaps.  

 

Odo passes the time thinking of what would happen if Quark were to notice Odo were in his room.  Outrage and indignation, most likely, so Odo thinks of all the different forms he could take to properly freak Quark out in the late night hours.  Perhaps a giant spider, or a squid-- something with too many legs that Quark will accidentally wrap himself up in, causing further panic.  Even if Odo doesn’t learn what Quark has been up to, the ridiculous look on Quark’s face will surely be worth it.

 

Eventually Quark’s breathing changes, slower and deeper, and Odo relaxes.  But just as Odo is quietly sliding out of the bed, Quark starts whimpering, twitching a little with small muscle spasms as if reacting to stimuli that aren’t there.  

 

“No-- profits--” Quark gurgles, still asleep.  “Don’t-- leave Rom, take me-- wait--the bar--”

 

Odo pauses and recongeals into the thin sheet.  He can feel Quark’s heartbeat speed up, his breath shallow as his sleep-talking fades into inaudible whining under his breath.  Quark flails, violently kicking at the blankets, and Odo-blanket becomes wrapped up in his limbs-- not quite as amusing as when Odo imagined shifting into a squid-- and a cold sweat drips off Quark to soak into his fake textile weave.  Quark jerks onto his left side, hissing as he apparently lands on his arm wrong-- an old injury from Brunt’s Nausicaans.  

 

Once Quark almost kicks Odo off the bed, however, Odo takes action, cheating his blanketness to cling tightly around Quark.  He maintains pressure as Quark’s thrashing slows and heartbeat thuds back to normal.  However, with Quark is still moaning a little under his breath, Odo experiments in changing textures, slowly enough that Quark won’t wake up.  He thins, light and smooth like Tholian silk, but this only allows Quark greater room for movement, so Odo shifts instead softer and fluffier, increasing pressure, swaddling Quark.  Once Odo is as plush and heavy as an Andorian yeti hide, the tension in Quark’s tightly wound limbs finally drains.  His breathing again slows, deep and rhythmic.

 

Odo conjectures that Quark most likely chose the purple and orange blanket for its aesthetic quality-- at an affordable price no doubt-- rather than comfort.  What an idiot, but luckily Odo is here, at least for the moment.  While he probably could finally slip out without Quark noticing at this point, Odo finds himself reluctant to do so.  

 

There’s no rush; he has all night.  

 

Plus, it’s been quite sometime since he’s shared a bed with a solid (only once before, really).  Quark’s body beneath him is warm and snug, organs pumping blood and expelling heat in their internal activities.  The rhythm of Quark’s chest, rising and falling, is soothing, like the ebb and flow of a tide.  His breath makes a soft chuffing noise on its expel, and where the corner of his mouth is pressed against Odo-blanket, little bits of drool soak into the faux threads.    

 

Occasionally Odo will decrease pressure on Quark or forget to not maintain the same softness, and Quark will start breathing shallowly again.  At one point, Quark again starts muttering in his sleep-- a low whine of which Odo only catches the words _tell me about the jebrets_ \-- twitching again.  Odo ripples his blanket self to rub Quark’s back, and eventually the nightmare passes.

 

At this point Odo is in a bit of a dilemma.  He’s put off retrieving himself from the bed too long, and the situation has become much too cozy.  If Quark were to wake up and Odo were to shift into a terrifying creature to startle him, it would be past the point of funny and into being cruel-- particularly since if Quark doesn’t have evidence of misguided gimmicks in his room, Odo has no good reason to be there.  Better that Quark doesn’t know Odo was sneaking around, that he doesn’t know this is a boundary Odo was willing to transgress.  

 

Longingly, Odo is reminded of the Great Link, the intimacy of communing with his people, of the familiarity and affinity born of physical closeness.  Comfortably wrapped around Quark’s warm solidity, Odo is embarrassed that he’s still here in Quark’s bed, that it’s relaxing and rejuvenating him perhaps as much as it is for Quark.  The inherent loneliness that follows him wherever he traverses, living among humanoids so innately different from himself, subsides for the moment-- almost a distant memory in this new intimacy.  This is the first time since being back on the station Odo has felt such visceral connection, and he’s reluctant to pry himself from it. 

 

Perhaps living away from his people, among solids, wouldn’t be so bad if he had this every night.

 

Odo’s atoms loosen with what can only be described as _tenderness_ \-- for his strange and irritating archenemy, this perpetual thorn in his side that somehow has managed to warm that aching need buried inside Odo that he so denies.

 

Eventually, after exactly seven and three-quarter hours have passed, and Odo can’t put off his regeneration cycle any longer, he slips out from beneath the covers.  Quark’s breathing has deepened to a low reverberating snore, but doesn’t alter at the loss of Odo’s presence.  

 

Odo reforms into his humanoid shape slowly, so as not to disturb, takes one last glance around at the empty spaces on the shelves, the softly snoring creature beneath the thin gaudy blanket, and slides out beneath the doorframe.

 

\----------

 

Odo glides into the bar the next day at his usual time, feeling loose and content despite what was by all accounts a failure in his mission last night.  Quark is behind the counter, bouncing and more energetic that Odo has seen him in weeks.

 

“You look well-rested,” Odo says, letting a note of suspicion creep into his voice, and Quark doesn’t even jump at his presence.

 

“Now don’t jump to any conclusions, Odo,” Quark reprimands, wiggling his finger playfully and grinning.  Odo doesn’t know when the last time he saw him smile.  “There’s no deeper meaning here-- trust me.  I _wish_ I could tell you that I slept like a slime toad safe in his log because I made a great deal, or because suddenly the bar is earning double the profits, but that’s _not the case_.  I’m an open book Odo!” Quark spreads his arms open, beaming. “Nothing to see here, so move along.  Scooch or you’ll scare away the few customers I do have.”  He waggles his fingers at Odo and with a smirk continues pouring raktajino for the morning crowd.

 

“Don’t tell me the only reason you got a good night’s sleep was because you got a new blanket or something,” Odo says, carefully watching Quark’s reaction.

 

Quark’s eyes flicker for a moment, a small double take as if almost connecting a few loose ideas, and they narrow at Odo slightly. After a quick moment, he shakes his head as if dismissing the thought or at least pretending to.  “Nah.  Probably it’s a sign, a symbol, for better things to come.  Everything’s looking up!  I’ll be rich enough to buy my own moon before you know it, just you wait.”  Quark leans in close to Odo and pressing the tips of fingers against Odo’s chest in emphasis.  “I know you don’t believe me, but it’ll happen with or without your justice-crazed persecution.  I just have to keep trying.”  

 

Morn, off to the side, shakes his mug at Quark emphatically, and Quark gives a jovial head wiggle to Odo then scampers off to deal with Morn’s bottomless stomachs.

 

Odo is left with a pleasant affectionate feeling, spreading from where Quark had pressed on his chest.  He accidentally catches himself smiling fondly off in Quark’s general direction… then Morn gives him a strange look, and Odo quickly relaxes his face into its normal scowl before strolling off to the rest of his morning rounds.

 

There’ll be time later to catch Quark in some deception or another, but for now he’ll let the matter rest.


End file.
